Jane wakes up in vicious pain and a throbbing headache that accompanies her extreme discomfort. She opened her eyes and tried to adjusts to the faint glow of candlelight. Blinking back the water in her eyes.
Looking around she realizes that the place isn't somewhere she's been before, but doesn't dwell on the thought much longer. Instead, panic sets in and she becomes restless, trying to get up from her spot only to fall back from being too weak.
When she finally calms herself she looks down at the once bloodied arm and notices the evenly spacedstitches. She blinks again trying to concentrate on her thoughts, but her eyelids want to shut on her. The amount of blood she lost is the reason for her tired and fatigued state.
She cannot fight it.
She can only give in.
"Where you heading?" A man with a southern accent asked her as she brought some boxed and canned food items to the front of the store.
"I'm hoping Maine at least. My family lives there."
"That's a long ways from here in Ohio, Little Miss," He answered her.
"It would have been longer if I stayed in Kentucky," she murmured and handed over some money to pay for the goods.
It has been a week now since she left her university, making it almost two months now. Oddly enough she likes that this area is a quite town untouched by corruption of any sort.
"-and how come you're traveling alone."
"I'm not, my older brother is just across the road," Jane gave him a reassuring gesture out to the streets, where her brother and their dogs stood.
"Well as long as you're not travelling alone. Now that the power is gone, lots of people have put on a facade to hide their true intentions," The older man smiled warmly.
She relaxed her position a little, "You're right, can't be too careful these days."
The bell of the store chimed and she turned in time to see the gleam of the person's handgun. Without another thought, she dived into the aisle for some sort of security, the store owner however stood there frozen in his spot.
Jane looked to the store owner, terrified at his lack of ability to run for cover. She made a gesture for him duck, but he still stood at the counter.
"I'm sorry this has to go down this way," The man with the gun apologized first before continuing, "Put all your money in here!" he threw a bag out onto the counter and pointed the gun wildly between the cash register and the bag.
"You don't have to do this," Jane told him, still hidden behind a row. She was grabbed by the elbow, forcing to stand up and then thrown closer to the owner, crying out when her back hit the edge of the counter.
"Stay where I can see you," he grumbled, "There's no other way to do this, people are starving, I'm starving, my family-I just need the money, that's it, then I will leave you alone."
"He needs the money too," She was hoping that maybe she could talk him down in some way or another. Reason had always been a quality of hers, it helped her get out of trouble, especially when she was younger.
The man's anger suddenly flared from her words, like an infection starting in a unattended wound, "Shut up! If you take one more step, I'll kill you," the gun was pointed at her now, directly at her temple, "Just don't do anything stupid, please. I don't want to kill you," This time when the man spoke, his voice was softer, pleading and desperate.
Oddly enough, her mind drifted and she thought about her old Psychology class. The topic of concern being: elements that change a man's behavior and in this case it was the act of desperation.
She glanced at the window, seeing her brother still calmly picking out fresh food from the market across the road.
BANG. She flinched, blood beginning to seep through her clothing in splotches.
At first she thought she'd been hit and immediately her hand went up to her shoulder to check the damage. I would feel pain...wouldn't I? She asked herself and then shook the thought of it, telling herself that adrenaline was probably suppressing it.
Jane looked down beside her, the man who had once been holding the gun to her head was dead. A bullet hole through his forehead. She then looked up, wild eye meeting those of two others.
"Are you alright?" One of the two men asked.
"Quite fine now that y'all have saved us," The store owner answered, but Jane was still in a bit of shock.
A hand placed firmly on her arm and Jane looked down at it before looking up at the man, "You're alright, aren't you?"
She couldn't think and nodded a few times instead.
The bell of the store chimed in then, Brody rushing over towards her position, worried, "Jane are you alright? I heard a gunshot," he checked over the area which contained the most of the gunman's blood.
She watched as the other man backed up to give them room, "I'm fine," she muttered, "It's just blood. Well not my blood of course. It would have been if these two men hadn't come to our rescue." She wanted to laugh at her own words right then as she reminded herself of a typical damsel in distress.
As she looked at everyone in the room, she wondered briefly how fate's plans worked.
That was the first time she'd met the infamous General Monroe of the Monroe Militia.
When Jane wakes up again, she's in far less pain than before. Unfortunately still in a weakened state, she tries to sit up again and succeeds, throwing her legs over the edge to stand up. With mustered force, she lifts herself off the cot, only to stagger and catch her balance on the edge of the frame.
"You know, Jane, most people wouldn't even try to get up," It was General Monroe that spoke, one arm resting at the base of his left arm's elbow and the other bent so that his hand was resting at his mouth. He was standing just inside the tent that she was in.
She looked up lazily at him, still exhausted from being weak, "I'm not most people," there was a pause as she tried again to steady herself, Monroe not once moving to help her.
"No because most people wouldn't get themselves caught by me. Most would run with their tail between their legs before they even consider the thought of stealing from me," he began, his voice hard and could easily be taken as threatening to some.
Jane studied him with a glare her eyes connecting with his. She hated being humiliated and even being wrong, usually she would lash out at his words, but right now she wasn't going to fight him. Not in her state at least and especially with a man who could have her killed within seconds. "Where's my dog?"
"Out running around the camp. Some of the men are keeping him company."
A camp? So she's in the Monroe Militia's field encampment, "Can I see him?"
"You can," he paused digging out something in his pocket, "If you cooperate and help me with information." He pulled out a small book, a book that she herself carried around 15 years ago until she lost it.
"My book, where in the world did you find that?" she reached out for it but he moved it out of her reach.
The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk, "You dropped it long ago, the first day we met in fact," he looked at the book briefly, "Your brother mentioned you were quite attached to this," he murmured.
"It's personal," Jane answered, letting out a sigh.
Monroe turned for her, beginning to walk away and at that same time Jane tried her best to stand, "Why did you come after me?" Her voice was low, nearly low enough for Monroe to shrug it off, but he didn't. Instead he stopped, back still turned from her.
When she thought she'd get some kind of answer, he continued walking away and she sat back down on the cot, frustrated.
It had been ages since she'd last been in the company of the General.
He's changed, she thought before laying back down.
The next day she was cleared to wander the camp with eyes on her at all times. Knight had joined her too and she spent most the day enjoying the brilliant sun and relaxing until being summoned to Monroe's tent later in the evening.
One of the guards pulled back the tent flap for her as she approached and when she was inside, it was closed behind her.
"Sit," he commanded of her and she did so, across from his desk. He wasn't looking at her at first, and he was leaning back in his chair with one arm at his face. When he did look at her it was slow and then their eyes connect, "Enjoying yourself today?"
He wasn't wearing his normal uniform, but a simple shirt.
"It sure beats being locked up," Jane answered and Knight came into the tent then laying down beneath her feet.
He smiled feebly keeping it minimal, "You're a guest, If you need anything, say so." As he spoke she eyed her book on his desk, along with his things. He noticed her attention and placed his hand above the item, "Miles Matheson, have you seen him since that time in the store with me?"
"No," she answered with a lie.
He stood up from his chair walking around her and leaning down close. His hand reach for the base of her neck, squeezing lightly and his thumb ran along her jaw lightly, "I hate liars, Jane" his breath caressed her ear.
She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't put her hair up into a messy bun. Her heart was in an erratic state, unknown to her whether it was her fear or his harsh intimacy, "Yes," she breathed out. Any moment he could snap her neck but he wouldn't. Would he? He needed her for this information. Surely it would be stupid to kill her. Wouldn't it?
"Better," he answered, "Where?"
She tried to steady her breathing before answering him again, "Chicago. Somewhere in Chicago."
"Place?"
She fought hard to think, "A bar? I don't know the name, but I think that's where I seen him last. It's been a year."
He moved away from her and went around to his desk again, this time pulling out a bottle of alcohol, pouring it into a glass and sitting back down across from her. "You can leave now," hardly any emotion was shown in his voice, but she still sat in the chair looking away from him.
"Where's my brother?" she asked. Knowing full well that since Brody had joined the militia, he'd know where he was.
He stared briefly before answering, "Out on a mission." It was a small effortless answer, enough to give the woman across from him some kind of hope.
When she went to move, Bass watched her as she got up from the chair slowly calling the dog after her. He relaxed back in his chair then, looking at the book that she had overlooked.
If Miles was in Chicago that would be where Brody was.